Love Killed the World
by ChopstickGirl241
Summary: The year was 2012. And nations across the globe were dying. The end of the world was inevitable. Join a selection of the Hetalia cast they each experience their own personal Hell. Some more than others. LOTS OF CHARACTER DEATH. Pairings consist of one-sided Spamano, GerIta, Giripan, RussAme, FrUK, PruCan, and a few other minor or one-sided pairs. Also slight Mpreg.
1. Prolouge

Spain locked the door and fell to his plush bed, shaking and holding himself. His eyes were wide and his pupils trembled as he stared off into nothing. He had to grip. He _had _to get a grip. He was slowly losing his sense of sanity…reality blended with fantasy…this old and wise nation was reduced to a sniveling puddle because of his own imagination. _Romano, Romano…no! Not Romano…_

Romano's twin brother, the Northern half of Italy, was standing in an empty field. His heart ached, his head hurt, his feet felt heavy, everything felt like shit. His smile was gone. How could he smile now? How could he…go back…there was nothing left for him now. _Germany…how could you…?_

The 3rd member of Axis Powers, Japan, sat alone at home, vomiting into the porcelain bowl of the toilet. This was impossible…this was…**impossible**! The more he questioned it, the sicker he felt. The more he rubbed his aching, distended stomach, the more he realized how alone he was. _Why…why me? What have I done to deserve such punishment? Should I tell him? Should I hide? What should I do? Why must I be ashamed this way?_

Another friend of Japan, America, choked on his final breathes. Why did it have to end like this? All he did was love…all he wanted was a happy ending! Doesn't everyone? America could taste large amounts of his own, coppery blood. _Russia, please believe me! She's lying to you!_

America's former care taker, England, wept and wept. His eyes were large and sore from crying so much. "Dear God why? Both of them! How could you do that to my boys?" England repeated his question to the air, his voice hoarse and dry. _No…not my boys. Not my sweet babies…_

The partner to England, France, was just as inconsolable. How could this have happened? So painful…and alone… He downed another bottle of wine. He didn't want to feel anymore. It was painful just to breath, to blink, to hear. _Bring them back…please God, bring them back to me…Amerique…Mathieu…_

France's flesh and blood, Canada, sat down on the cold ground. Scrapping his knuckles on the brick wall behind him. Eye's glassy red, hair dull, glasses crooked, tethered clothing, no shoes…when had he lost his shoes? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. It was pure bliss. It took away the pain. Oh look, proof! His knuckles bled as he continuously scraped them back and forth, pushing deeper into the brick. Was that what his bones really looked like? Nice… _See God? There is such a thing as Heaven on Earth. I have sinned…I have sinned greatly to get here. And I don't give a shit…so fuck you and your Heaven! I found my own Paradise…_

Canada's lover, Prussia, ran as fast as he could. Panting. He could only pray to the Gods that he wasn't too late. He ran down another empty alley way and met with another chain-link fence. "Fuck!" He hissed and quickly jumped over, acquiring a few scrapes along the way. But he couldn't care less. All that mattered now was finding his Birdie, before it was too late. "Canada! Matthew! Answer me Birdie, please!" He desperately called. _Why Birdie? Oh why did you do it? You were an Angel Birdie…you were __**my**__ Angel. Come back to me Birdie, please, come back before it's too late…_

The eastern part of Germany, and also Prussia's brother, was in still in total shock. His body moved on its own as he ran after Italy. But damn him, Italy could bolt when he wanted to. Germany lost sight. "Italy!" He called out desperately. He couldn't blame him for running. He couldn't blame him for what he said. Germany would feel the same if put in Italy's place. But what Italy had said…after he ran…Germany couldn't let him. _Feliciano! I'm so sorry…so…so sorry…Nothing I could ever do will make it up to you. I understand, I understand why you hate me, I don't blame you. But please don't do this! You have so much to live for Feliciano…and so many people who want you in this world. Feliciano…_

The only nation taller than Germany, Russia, widened his eyes. He dropped to his knees in utter disbelief. He'd always known his psyche was cracked. He'd always known that he could be violent at times. And he'd always known of his sister's creepy feelings for him. But he still loved her. She was still his sister. His precious little sister. The one who claimed to love him more than anything had now completely betrayed him. _Natalya…why? You knew all too well…how much I loved him. The only person I've ever loved so passionately. The only person who I could want to strangle in the morning and make love to all night. The only person who was worth living, who was forth fighting, and fighting for. Natalya…big brother killed his sunflower…_


	2. Mi Tomate

"Oi, Tomato bastard!" Romano glared as he called to Spain upon entering the home they usually shared. "Romano!~" The Spaniard delightfully called and glomped the shorter Italian. "H-hey!" Romano blushed slightly but threw his hand back, landing a back-handed punch to Spain's face. "Get off of me! Bastardo, it's not like you don't see my almost every day! So being so happy-go-lucky and touching me! I'm hungry, make me some pasta!" With that Romano broke free of Spain's grasp and went to go take a shower.

Spain just sighed and rubbed his sore face, going back in the kitchen to start the pasta. This is usually how things went. Romano was just as cold to him as ever, sometimes he really wondered if Romano actually did consider Spain as friend and not just 'an annoying ex-boss that I continentally live with'.

Even when Romano was younger, he never liked Spain much. Spain smiled, thinking back to how cute and innocent Romano used to be. Though truth be told, Romano was just as violent towards the Spaniard then as he is now. But that didn't matter. Because Spain still loved him. He always had, and he always would. Even if the other could never return his feelings, he was happy enough just to be by his side.

Or rather, that's what he'd always thought. Lately though, his thoughts have been turning in a more unusual direction. He'd be lying if he said that he'd never imagined having sex with Romano. But he always suppressed that deep attraction he felt for the other and just lightly flirted with him on a regular basis. But recently the dreams had been becoming more vivid and they were happening a lot more often.

Thinking about Romano…**his **Romano, oh how he wished Romano was truly his. To claim every inch of tanned territory as his own. He'd never let anyone else touch him, not even his twin fratello. He'd love him, kiss him, and caress him until the only thing Romano could feel was his own heartbeat. To make the smaller nation crave him, beg for him, his love becoming the only thing that kept the little Italian alive…

By now Spain's eyes were glazed over with lust and desire. It was a sort of trance that lately he's been involuntarily slipping himself into. Though getting out of it was much harder.

It'd already been 12 minutes since Romano came home, since then he'd hopped in and out of the shower and walked into the kitchen clad in only yellow boxers and the towel around his neck. "Oi, Tomato bastard, is the pasta ready yet?" He blinked when he got no response and just saw Spain standing there, hovering over the stove and staring off into space. Then he also noticed the pot of boiling water that was about to bubble over. "Hey, idiota, what do you think you are doing?"

Romano quickly rushed over and turned off the heat. Spain staggered backwards slightly due to Romano's shove, but he still looked dead to the world. That is until his pupils moved of their own accord and were finally focusing on something in the real world. And that was Romano.

Spain's green eyes flickered and in one swift motion, he had Romano pinned against the wall. "Romano…" He sensually breathed out and crashed their lips together before Romano even got a chance to protest. "Mm?"

Romano squirmed, but Spain was too strong. What did that bastardo think he was doing? He kept his mouth firmly closed even as Spain licked the other's lower lip, wanting to gain access, and when he was denied, he tried to forcefully shove his tongue inside but to no avail until Romano opened his mouth to try and yell at the other.

Romano was caught off-guard as Spain took advantage and devoured his mouth. Tasting every inch inside the other's mouth. Romano squirmed and broke the kiss by turning his head. But Spain would have none of that, sacrificing one hand that pinned Romano, he slid it to the other's chin and used it to forcefully hold him in place while he ravaged his mouth. Eventually sliding the other hand to rest on the small of Romano's back.

With his hands finally free, Romano desperately tried to punch, kick, shove, anything he could think of to get Spain away from him. Spain just growled out of annoyance and suddenly pulled down Romano's boxers, making the other blush profusely and forced him to the ground, attempting to spread his legs but Romano wasn't going down without a fight. "Espana! Stop this please! I don't want this!" He desperately cried. He'd never seen Spain like this before. Spain constantly hit on him and flirted, sometimes giving him a 'bad touch' here and there, but he'd never forced himself on Romano before.

Spain tightly gripped Romano's thighs and all but ripped them apart, spreading them wide so that every bit of Romano was exposed to him. "Antonio stop it!"

Suddenly it clicked into Spain's mind. That was his first name. Someone called him by his name? Who had called him? Romano? Ah Romano..wait…Romano?

Spain's eyes reverted back to normal and he blinked a couple of times before he looked down in horror to what he was about to do to Romano. He quickly jumped back, letting the other go. Romano just shivered and curled up in ball.

"Lovino! M-mi amor…I-I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me I…" He cut himself off, eyes brimming with tears as he watched Romano silently cry and cower before him. Spain looked down at his own shaky hands. What had he done? Was he really about to forcefully deflower his little loved one? Dios mio that just…made him sick.

Noticing Spain revert back to his old self, Romano finally, albeit shakily, stood to his feet and pulled up his boxers. "I'm going to stay with fratello tonight…" He quickly left, leaving a frightened and disgusted, self-loathing Spaniard all alone to wallow in his thoughts.

The next day Romano came back though, reluctantly and he brought Feliciano with him, just in case. "Oh hello Lovi…Feli…" Spain weakly answered the twins at his door. "Whatever Tomato bastard, I left my clothes here yesterday; I just came to get them." He huffed and dragged Feliciano inside with him. Spain followed, keeping a good distance behind them. "Uhm…Romano look. A-about yesterday I-" "Just shut up bastardo. I want to forget yesterday ever happened and move on…" He found the clothing and gathered it in his arms, leaving with Feliciano, who was still very confused. Romano came crying to him in the night, hadn't told him what happened, but Feli was a good brother and just held him close, letting him stay the night and not prying into his brother's business. If Romano wanted to tell him then he would. Everyone hoped that things would get better. But as the weeks went by, everything just got a hell of a lot worse, particularly for Spain.

The Spaniard was curled up in bed, about to lose his mind. Every thought in his head was revolved around Romano. Romano, Romano, nothing but Romano. What had started out as innocent affections for his 'younger brother and servant' turned into love. And one day, that pure-hearted love twisted, and turned into straight obsession. Spain was scared. Scared of himself. Scared for Romano. What if he lost control like he had a few weeks back? It had almost happened a few more times actually, but Spain was far more cautious now and snapped himself out of it before he even attempted anything on Romano.

Where is Romano? How is Romano? Is he having a good day? What did he do to make Germany angry this time? Was Romano eating right now? Was he hungry? Was he alone? Would anyone noticed if he snatched him and took him away? What did Romano's jizz face look like? Did he like it in the missionary position or doggy style? Was he kinky or have a fetish? What would Romano do if Spain locked him in his basement forever? What if-

"Get out of my head!" Spain desperately screamed to the air. He tugged harshly on his own brown hair and gritted his teeth, eyes brimming with tears. It was madness, pure madness. The sick emotions he felt towards his sweet little Romano. He couldn't take it anymore. This was pure torture. How long would it be before he finally snapped and actually did all those horrible things to Romano? He couldn't take that risk again. He felt sick. Sick with himself, disgusted. But as much as he hated it, those thoughts came back again and again and again until they clouded his entire judgment.

Finally getting up from the bed, Spain walked over to his closet and took out a small box that he kept hidden. Inside was a few keep sakes from his pirate days. Inside was so torn cloth and an amazing hand-stitched design, some doubloons, small certificates, some were old contracts of sorts, but at the top of the pile was an old flint-lock pistol. It was a beauty. She was small, and Spain hadn't used her for ages. Surprisingly she was still loaded. He smiled and put her up to his temple."Do not worry Lovino…I cannot hurt you anymore." He smiled sadly and closed his eyes. Using his very last bit of sanity, he pulled the trigger and put himself out of his own misery. A loud gunshot rang through the empty house.

It wasn't until the next day that his body was discovered. France, along with Prussia, had been growing concerned for their friend. Lately he'd been avoiding everyone. Even Romano said he was acting weird. So his best friends decided to pay him a visit. They let themselves in (Spain never locked his door) called out.

"Ello, ello, ello! Antonio, it is your friends Frances and Gilbert!" France spoke and was meet with an eerie silence. "Maybe he's not home?" Gilbert suggested. "I don't think so. He hasn't left his house since last week, where else would he go?" The two skulked around the house, everything seemed relatively in order. Until they reached the bedroom…there they found their friend lying dead in a pool of his own blood and a gun in his hand. "Mon dieu!" Frances cried out and dropped to their deceased friend's side. "Mon dieu…Antonio…" Gilbert just covered his hand with his mouth. "Mein Gott…why'dya do it Toni?"

France got over his initial shock and stood up somberly. "We have to tell the others…and give him a proper burial." Gilbert nodded and took out his cell phone, the first person he called Germany. "Hey West? Yeah it's me, listen, I need you to gather all the countries in an emergency meeting. Yes. Yes I know it's short notice. Yes…Gott's sake West just do it! Und hurry!" Gilbert closed his phone and France took out his. Dialing up Spain's boss and telling him the gruesome news.


	3. Mein Birdie

"This had better be important bruder." Germany spoke to Prussia as the last of the nations filed into the room where they held their meetings when they took place in Spain. "It is. Now sit down and shut up." Gilbert was surprisingly serious for once.

Everyone was seated so France and Prussia made their way to the front of the room. "I'm sure you're all wondering why you're here. We apologize for any inconveniences but zhis is very important." France spoke.

"But I must regrettably inform you all that we have lost one of our own. Spain is dead." The room went silent save for the few horrified gasps. "But no…poor Spain! How did he die?" Belgium was the first to speak. "He shot himself."

Romano's eyes went wide. "S-shut up, stop lying!" He glared. "That's not true! He can't be dead! There's no way that stupid Tomato bastard would do that!" His eyes were full of anger and tears. "I am sorry Romano, it is true." Romano just shivered and screamed then ran out of the room, not wanting to believe it was true.

Italy just sat there with his head hung low. "Big brother Spain is dead?" He whispered to himself. "How could he do such a thing Big brother France?" His eyes were filled with tears as well. France sighed. "I do not know Italy. It's very shocking to all of us." He ran a hand through his blonde hair uneasily. "The funeral is tomorrow, for those who will be attending." With that France left the room and Gilbert called the meeting to a close. The other countries murmured with each other. Some already in tears, others expressing their sorrow through silence. There was one country however who did not show up to the meeting, or the funeral. In fact, no one had seen him in awhile. Not that anyone really cared. Most people forgot that Canada even existed.

But Prussia knew. Prussia had been with Canada for a good 3 years now. Canada was such a sweet and quiet boy. But…he also had a lot of problems. One in particular being his drug addiction. In Canada's defense, he claimed that he only did drugs when he wanted to feel better. After all, he was constantly in his brother's shadow, got mistaken for him on a regular basis and beaten up because of it (which is why he broke up with Cuba. Even after dating, Cuba smacked him when he thought he was America), and when he wasn't being mistaken for America, he was completely ignored or forgotten. Which only made doing drugs and getting them so much easier.

He never told Prussia when they first started dating. Prussia found out on his own when he found Canada at home, bugged out of his little fucking mind. Prussia tried to be a good boyfriend and help and support Canada. And Canada loved him for it. For a little while, he actually thought that Prussia's love would be enough. But it wasn't.

Even now, Canada was currently sitting at home, injecting himself with a needle of God-knows-what and sighing in relief when he began to feel his mind warp and the high take over him. He was careful not to let Prussia catch on that he was still doing it though. It was hard enough to hide all the needle marks but lately he'd just been getting lazy.

Which is why he wasn't expecting Prussia to show up today. Prussia opened the door with the key that Canada gave him, and walked inside. "Hey Mattie. Where have you been? I didn't see you at-" He cut himself off and blinked as he stared at Matthew who had a nice, fresh needle mark and was currently lighting a pipe to smoke. He froze like a deer in head lights. His vision may have been trippy from the drugs, but he knew a glaring Gilbert when he saw one. "G-gilbert! What are you doing here? U-Uh I can explain!"

"Mattie why…?" Gilbert clenched his fists. "Matt, what the fuck is wrong with you?! You told me that you quit this shit!" "I did! I-I mean I am! I mean…w-what's wrong with wanting to get high every once in awhile?!" He did his best to glare but the fear and substances in his system made it hard.

"Because you could fucking die Matt! Don't you remember what happened the last time I found you? You were so blitzed you couldn't even control your body functions, I had to take you to the hospital and they said you were lucky to even be alive let alone conscious!" Matthew winced and bit his lip. "B-but that was a long time ago, I'm really better now! Maple…I can control it now, really! I just wanted it one more time…"

Gilbert sighed and walked over, kneeling down in front of Matthew, placing his hands on his knees. "Birdie…please don't do this. I just had to bury a dear friend of mine. Antonio, he's dead. I don't want to have to bury my boyfriend too…"

Matthew sniffled and felt a pang of guilt. Antonio died? When did that happen? How terrible, and Antonio was a really close friend to Gilbert. And what was Matt doing? Sitting at home trying to get high. Wow, he was a terrible boyfriend. Poor Gilbert was too good to him. "I'm s-sorry Gil…-sniff- really I am…i-it's just I-" "Shh…" Gilbert put a finger up to Matt's mouth and silenced him. "It's alright Birdie. I still love you. But just promise me, and I seriously mean it, **promise **me that you won't do this ever again."

A few tears fell down Matthew's cheeks as he looked deep into Gilbert's blazing red eyes. They were filled with hurt and hope and love and admiration. His heart swelled. How could he have been so foolish? Drugs certainly weren't the answer. Gilbert was. Gilbert loved him. And love was all he needed.

"I promise! -hic- I'll never ever do it again! I'm so sorry Gil!" Canada threw his lazy arms as best he could around Prussia and the Prussian returned the hug full force, coaxing the other and whispering sweet-nothings. "Shh…it's ok Birdie. Everything will be ok. I forgive you…hey. Hey." He reached up and grasped both of Canada's cheeks, forcing him to look him in the eyes. (Or rather as best one could look another in the eyes if they had drugs clouding their mind)

"Look at me Birdie. See me? This is awesomeness. And awesomeness doesn't cry. So don't cry little bird, it's so unawesome." Gilbert smirked a bit and Matthew couldn't help but laugh. That's right, it wasn't awesome to cry. And Gilbert really was awesome. Even after a morbid discovery and coming home to Canada like this, he still knew what to say. He knew how to be serious and express his love. But he also knew how to make Matt smile and make him feel better. God damn it, how had he been so fortunate to find a boyfriend like him?

"Ok Gil." He giggled and wiped away the few tears he'd shed. "I'm done crying, and I'm done with all these nasty drugs."

"There's the awesome birdie I know and love! See? The awesome me has made you see the light! Kesesese!"

And from that day onward, Matthew had kept his promise to Gilbert. Or rather…he did. For two months at least.

But two months later, Canada awoke in the middle of the night in silent terror. He clutched his head as it began to throb. He had been having withdrawals for a few weeks now, and they were only getting worse and worse. He hadn't told Prussia though. Because then Prussia, being the caring boyfriend that he was, would try to get Canada help again by sending him to some rehab or something that didn't help and it would just piss him off. And he was already pretty pissed.

His country was well enough for the moment but his personal life was suffering big time. Recently, America had stayed the night (telling the Canadian that a 'bro sleep over' would be fun) and brought Russia with him (so much for 'bros' only). And the very next morning, almost his entire house had been destroyed! When he confronted America, the other just chuckled lightly while blushing and limping, saying he and Russia got a little rough. And Matthew swears, Russia has been spending too much time with Alfred, because he was acting even more childish than usual. Blaming America for starting it so he didn't owe Canada anything. And of course Alfred said, 'Just put it on my tab bro!', and by tab, the American really meant, 'I have a shitty economy so I can't pay you anything right now and I'll most likely forget and never repay you but I had fun using your stuff before it was broke!'.

Which is also why he was in Prussia's bed right now, the albino still sleeping peacefully beside him. Canada glared over at his lover. Jealous of how easy the other seemed to get to sleep. It only reminded him of how stressed he was. And how he wanted to relieve that stress by getting a fix. Just **one **fucking fix, is that really so much to ask for?

After all the shit the poor little Canadian has to go through on a daily basis, doesn't he deserve to relax? Doesn't he deserve to feel that wonderful bliss he got from the substance? Ok sure, it was illegal for a reason, but he wasn't stupid! He knew his limits, he knew to not do too much and just how to make it feel just right. He wasn't a fucking noob! Plus as a country, the reward was worth it even more. With all that heavy paperwork, the 'accidental abuse' from other countries (mostly Cuba and America), and the fact that he was just plain invisible to just about everyone, and when he was remembered, it was usually so he could pay for something or be used, so after all that, wouldn't it be nice to go home, smoke a bone or chase a purple dragon, and just relax? Just a little bit?

Speaking of which, why didn't he? He was pissed, he was having withdrawals, he knew where to get a fix, so why didn't he just go out and buy some? Oh yeah, because A., he didn't know where any drug dealers were in Germany (Prussia still lives in Germany's basement), and B., he'd made a promise to said Prussian that he would never touch the stuff again.

Although he never promised that he wouldn't think about it. And the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to do it. And why shouldn't he? Ok, he'd made a promise, but Prussia was a good boyfriend, he'd not give in to temptation! Yet oh how tempting it was…

'No..no, I refuse!'

'Aw come on, what will one more time hurt?'

'It will hurt myself and the man I love!'

'No it won't, don't be such a pussy! It'll feel good! You know you want to~'

'I want to…but…no! What about Gilbert?'

'Gilbert can go fuck himself!'

'But Gilbert loves me!'

'If he really loved you, he'd let you be happy! He'd understand how you feel and let you make yourself feel better.'

'I suppose so but…you know what? You're right! Everyone always pushes me around and so does he! He's trying to bully me into giving it up. He doesn't want me to be happy, fuck him!'

'Atta boy! Let's go get our fix!'

'Yeah!'

Canada smirked and hopped out of bed, finished having an internal conversation with himself, and snuck out of the house and into the night, looking for the right shady character to give him his goodies.

And eventually that's exactly what he found. Now, he still wasn't all that good at speaking German, and he didn't have any deutschmarks but a little small talk, a masturbation display and a blow job later, and he got what he wanted.

He giggled almost manically to himself as he entered a dark, empty alley way and got it set up. He rolled up his sleeve, tied the band around his upper arm, and injected himself with the needle.

And after the small prick of pain from the needle, he finally felt that familiar bliss that he'd been craving.

He allowed his mind to cloud and the drug to take over. He'd never felt so good. But to any person looking at the blitzed Canadian, they'd think he was a hobo who looked like shit. His hair was disheveled, his clothes were sweaty and slightly torn from the romp he'd had with the gentleman who'd given him his fix earlier, and he just looked foolish, scraping his knuckles against the brick wall beside him till he bled.

While Matthew was off in La-la land, Gilbert suddenly stirred awake, awoken by the lack of warmth and body mass in his bed. "Mmm Birdie, you up?" He blinked his eyes opened and looked around, his little Canadian nowhere in sight. "Birdie?" He called again and sat up, feeling a bit more alert.

Upon once again receiving no answer, Gilbert bolted out of bed and threw on the nearest clothes he could find. Gott no, not again! It wasn't possible, it simply wasn't possible. Canada must be shooting up again! Motherfucker!

Gilbert grabbed his cell phone and jacket, threw on his boots, and ran out into the night. There's only one reason Canada would have left this late without a word, a note, or anything; he was getting more drugs.

So Gilbert made a mad dash to all the shady drug dealers he knew (well he didn't really know them, but he'd heard of a few through some mutual friends). Most said that they had turned the blonde down or hadn't seen him. Finally Prussia found the guy that Matt had bought his drugs from earlier. The man explained to him where he went and the great blowjob he got out of it. Which of course earned the shady dealer a hard punch to the face, successfully dislocating his jaw and knocking the bastard unconscious.

Gilbert went in the direction the dealer had told him and found a cluster of alleyways. "Birdie! Birdie, Matthew baby, where are you?" He called out down the streets. Still no reply.

Matthew was swaying back and forth on the ground. Singing some made up tune while images unnamed colours and entire volumes of spectrums flashed in his mind. He hadn't felt so good in such a long time. Like he was light. Like he was air. Like nothing else mattered but the pure euphoria and bliss. It's said to be a sin. To make one's self feel such pleasure, be it by touching or not. But he didn't care, fuck that shit.

The Canadian felt like he was free. Like he could do anything. Even melt away into the pavement leaving only puddle of his blended colours. He hazily looked towards the needle in his unscathed hand. Smirking to himself, he saw that there was still enough vial left for one more hit. One more blast of ecstasy. And so with shaky and (one) bleeding hand(s), he flicked the tip to get every last drop of syrum and injected the last of the substance into him, just letting the dirty, used needle dangle from the puncture mark in his arm. Fuck yes…the last thing Matthew remembered before he blacked out was the swaying of the scenery above him and the ringing in his ears, almost like someone was calling his name. Prussia, it sounded like Prussia. Ah, Mattie did love the man with a passion.

_Don't worry Gilbert. I'm totally fine! I just got take a real quick nap, kay? _And on that final thought meant for the Prussian, Matthew smiled and closed his eyes for the final time.

Gilbert panted as he continued down the streets. Every alley he'd been in so far was either a dead end or took him in a completely different direction. He'd already had to scale a few fences, earning a few good scrapes along the way from the rusty old wires. But he couldn't care less, he had to find Matthew, and fast! The doctor had told him just after the last incident, that even one more hit could be fatal for the Canadian. And so on his search went. Calling out for his love, receiving no response, and running some more.

That is, until he finally came upon him. He came upon the sight of his boyfriend as what he hoped was only unconscious and slightly bleeding in a few places at the end of the alley way.

"Mattie…" He quickly rushed over and dropped to his side, checking his pulse and pressing his ear to his chest to listen for a heartbeat. But…nothing. He heard nothing. He felt nothing. There wasn't even the distinct rising and falling of the latter's chest as proof that he was still breathing. "No, c'mon Birdie. Don't do this to me. Get up Mattie! I mean it, this is so not awesome!"

He received no response. Nothing but deafening silence. The albino's eyes filled with unshead tears as he did everything he could to revive his dead boyfriend. CPR, chest compressions, even slapping him a few times in the face just for some kind of reaction, some kind of response, **anything** to prove that his lover was still alive. But as with most things in the Prussian's long life, he was met with disappointment.

All he could do know was weep silently and hold the other close. How could he let this happen? He didn't deserve this. Neither of them did.

Gilbert looked down to the face of his passed lover. Memorizing each and every inch of him. His hair was a wreck and had lost its once shiny luster. He sniffled and tucked away a few strands behind his ear. It was just cruel. His lover was still warm. And his expression was so peaceful, almost as though he was sleeping. But he wasn't, and Prussia knew that.

Nothing Prussia could do would ever bring his love back. So he just sat there with him, in the dark and empty, filthy alleyway. Embracing his love as closely as possible while he mourned. Even when his body grew cold, and even when his body grew stiff, Gilbert refused to let go.

It wouldn't be until another 8 hours before someone actually happened by and noticed the ghastly and sorrowful scene. But even so, Gilbert refused to leave his lover's side. Even when he was being questioned by the police, he refused to let go. Even when they attempted to pry him away he still refused to let go. Even when his younger brother Germany came to witness the tragedy for himself, to see his once powerful older brother in such a pathetic position with the corpse, he still refused to let go.

Finally, the police had had enough. One of them smacked Gilbert over the head with a nightstick, distracting the other just long enough to pry the corpse away and attempt to restrain the enraged albino.

"Nnnnooooo!" He cried, voice hoarse and desperate. They were taking Mattie away, they were taking his precious Birdie away from him! He started fighting tooth and nail, punching and kicking wherever he could, looking like a deranged madman. But there were too many of them, and Gilbert had had enough. He finally snapped, and got a much better idea. He finally maneuvered himself between them enough to grab one of their guns.

Seeing that he was now armed the officers quickly all jumped back and took out their own weapons, aiming them at the Prussian and telling him to drop the weapon.

Gilbert panted and moved his arm in a circle, pointing the gun at all the officers' heads until he finally landed on his own and pulled the trigger.

Limp body smacking the ground with an eerie thud, blazing red eyes quickly dulled and became sheathed by white lids. No one could believe what had just happened, especially Germany, who had been unfortunate enough to witness the whole thing. That day the world lost two great nations; the ex-nation of Prussia and the country of Canada.


End file.
